


The Strongest Form of Magic

by maisierita



Series: The Thirteenth Dwarf [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Cultural brainwashing, Gen, Slavery (sort of), Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maisierita/pseuds/maisierita
Summary: Kili spends a lot of time in the garden pulling weeds, and Fili is generally oblivious to everything important, as usual.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yet _another_ prequel to The Thirteenth Dwarf. Eventually I will finish up the sequel. Promise ... ?
> 
> Part 4 of the series, set after "The Shortest Distance Between Two Points" but before "The Thirteenth Dwarf." The boys are young adults now, say the equivalent of their early 20s.

* * *

 

 _Music is the strongest form of magic._ -  _Marilyn Manson_

* * *

 

“Kili, do you know what- oh. Was that you?”

Kili looked up from the garden and blinked, obviously startled. “Fili,” he said. He wiped halfheartedly at his face, succeeding only in smearing the dirt around. “Thorin said you would not return until the day after tomorrow.”

Fili shrugged. “The contest was dull. There is no point to staying if there is no one there worth the time to compete against.”

Kili did not look especially impressed. “I suppose Mr. Dwalin has been training you too well, if you have already outclassed all dwarves your age.”

“Or I’ve more natural talent than I know what to do with,” Fili said, grinning. “But it is of no matter. In the summer there shall be a festival for all the dwarves in the Blue Mountains, and I expect I shall find some decent competition there. Were you singing just now?”

Kili blinked again, brow furrowing. “I did not know you were home.”

“That is not an answer,” Fili chided. “It was you! I’d no idea you sang.”

"I do not sing,” Kili said quite ridiculously.

“Don’t lie to me,” Fili said out of habit, though he wished he hadn’t a moment later when Kili went a little pale under all the dirt. “Oh, I didn’t mean — it’s just that it was obviously you singing. There’s no one else about.”

“I don’t sing,” Kili said obstinately, but then he looked at the ground and muttered, “only sometimes.”

“Well, I don’t know why,” Fili said. He kept his tone light. Kili was being more stupidly sensitive than usual, or else he himself was simply out of practice at dealing with him. “Your voice is pleasant enough, and there’s no rule against it.” Then he paused. “Is there?” For on thinking about it, the reason he’d been so surprised to hear Kili singing was that he never had, not since they were children, anyway, and if there was a rule against such a thing it was far more likely that Kili would be aware of it than Fili. For all the rules of _khazd khuv_ Fili knew — and there were many, many of them — it seemed there were just as many he did not know about until he inadvertently stumbled across them.

“There’s no rule against it,” Kili said, though he still sounded unhappy.

“Surely there is something, or you would not look so glum. Come now, you cannot be embarrassed about having been overheard. It was only a few notes, and as far as I can tell they were entirely in tune.”

This did not seem to dispel Kili’s dour mood. It might, perhaps, have made it worse. He fidgeted and ran his trowel limply through the dirt. “Singing is not forbidden, I do not think. Not when I am alone, at least. That is, I have never asked, so I do not ...” He frowned. “It is not permitted with others — I think not ever, but certainly never when they are singing sacred songs. Maybe never even if they are singing in Khuzdul, whether the songs are sacred or not. I think perhaps I am not allowed to hear the sacred songs at all.”

“You are not missing much,” Fili said, shrugging. He hopped up on the fence, bracing himself with his hands behind him. Kili bent back down to his weeding. “The sacred songs are slow and dull, and the rest of the Khuzdul songs are not much better. A little faster, perhaps, but not very much more interesting. There are only so many things one can say about Mahal’s forge. What were you singing?”

Kili’s shoulders went momentarily tense. “Just a song I heard in Bree, from the men there.”

“The men!” Fili was fascinated. He’d met very few, and none at all since Fëor. For some reason it had never occurred him that they might do anything so dwarfish as make music. “Do they sing much, then?”

“When they are in their cups, they are as merry as any dwarf,” Kili said. “Though their songs seem heavily to feature the romancing of their dams.” He paused. “Women, I think they call them. They have many more females than we do, and seem very concerned with how to romance them and entice them to bed, and more eager still to describe what happens in the bedchamber once they have reached it.”

Fili made a face. “That seems a peculiar thing to sing about. Why not sing of something more sensible, like battle or gold?”

“They sing of those, too,” Kili said. “Just not as often, and with less enthusiasm.”

“And what of this song you were singing?” Fili pressed. “I heard but a bit of it. Did it feature romance, or battle, or gold?”

Kili went still for a moment, then pulled out a weed far more viciously than necessary. “None of those. It was just a silly song about a farmer and his mule that would not move, no matter how the farmer pleaded. It was — I liked the tune, when I heard it, and the words were simple enough so they stuck in my head.”

Fili scoffed. “As if you should ever forget anything that you saw or heard, even if just the once.”

Kili grunted, but did not otherwise answer, and turned his attention quite deliberately back to his weeds. It was summer and had been wet of late, so there were very many weeds left to deal with, though the pile at the entrance to the garden was already quite large. Fili watched in silence for a little while, musing at the shape of Kili’s torso under his sweat-stained shirt — one of Fili’s old shirts, carefully patched and scrupulously maintained. There were muscles there Fili would not have expected to see, if he had ever thought about it. Perhaps it was just that Fili had not looked at him very closely for some little while. Or for some long while, even. Fili could not, now that he thought on it, remember the last time he had sat with Kili for even so short a length of time as this. “I have not seen you much of late,” he mused out loud.

Kili sat back on his heels, frowning, and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “You have not been home very much of late,” he said, and if his face was carefully blank, Fili did not think he was imagining the hint of disapproval in Kili’s voice. “You are always training with Dwalin or off at some festival or at the taverns with your friends.”

Fili nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Still,” he said, “it seems like months since we have had a proper conversation. What has happened of interest?”

Kili stared blankly at him for a moment. “Of interest? Nothing.”

“Oh, there must be _something,_ ” Fili said. “Even in this little house, things happen.”

Kili took his time answering, looking thoroughly perplexed. “Well,” he said slowly, “I repaired the hole in the outhouse wall last week and nearly took my finger off whilst cutting the wood to size, but ended up only needing a few stitches.”

“Stitches!” Fili exclaimed. “I heard nothing of this! Are you certain?”

Kili blinked, and frowned. “Quite certain,” he said. He held up his left hand so Fili could see the bandage round his third finger.

The bandage was black with dirt. Fili was appalled. “I do not think you should be digging in the dirt with a fresh injury.”

“It is nearly healed already,” Kili said. “Mr. Óin  attended me, and it was hardly painful at all. Plus the weeding must get done, or the plants will be choked out, and we should have no fresh vegetables.”

Fili grunted, for it was true the weeding must be done, though he was not very concerned about fresh vegetables or their lack. “I remember when this was my chore,” he said.

“Do you?” Kili asked. “It has been many years since then. You can hardly have been out of short pants the last time you were in the garden, unless it was maybe to steal a strawberry without Thorin’s knowing.”

“Oh, you exaggerate,” Fili said. “It has not been that many years. Why, I think — wasn’t it still mine to do when I came of age?”

“No,” Kili said, “and had not been for several summers already. You loathed gardening, though I don’t know why. It is nice to be out in the sun.”

“Dwarves do not like the sun,” Fili chided. “We are meant for the dark of the mines. And anyway, it is hard work and tedious, plus even if you pull all the weeds today, there will be more weeds to pull tomorrow.”

Kili frowned at that, and glanced at the pile of weeds he had already pulled. “I suppose that is true,” he said. “But I like it all the same.” Stubbornly, as if to show how much he enjoyed it, he bent back down and pulled several weeds in quick succession.

“You are a strange one,” Fili said, grinning, and settled back on the fence to watch. It was in fact quite pleasant to be out in the sun, though he could hardly admit that now, and in any event it must be rather less pleasant for anyone working as diligently as Kili. “Sing your song for me,” he said eventually. “The one about the farmer and the stubborn mule.”

Kili looked up, an annoyed expression on his face. “I told you I am not allowed to sing in company.”

“I am not company,” Fili said. “So it is not against the rules. And you are supposed to do what I tell you, so you cannot get in trouble for it, even if it is against the rules, which I am sure it is not.”

Kili looked very displeased. He did not sing. “We are not dwarflings anymore.”

“Well, no,” Fili said, “clearly not, though why that should matter-”

“If you ask me to do something I should not,” Kili said, in the manner of someone explaining something to a slow child, “I shall get punished either way, for failing to do something you ask of me, or for doing something that is against the rules.”

Fili blinked, startled. “But that is ridiculous! If that were true, I could get you in trouble whenever I wanted!”

“That _is_ true,” Kili said, “but I do not think Thorin would be very happy with you if you did it.”

“No,” Fili said, still taken quite aback. “I should imagine you would not be the only one feeling the switch.”

Kili scoffed. “He would not beat you. You are of age and full grown.”

“That does not stop him beating you,” Fili said automatically, then wished he hadn’t.

But Kili did not look upset at all. “That is different. But I think he would still find some way to punish you. He is months behind in his accounting, you know, and Mr. Balin shall not return from his journey for another week.”

Fili blanched. “I shall have to be on my best behavior then. Have you ever seen the state of his books? He has receipts stuffed into his drawers with his small clothes, and contracts tucked under the mattress. It is even worse at the forge, parchments everywhere, and sometimes I swear he uses them for kindling.”

“He remembers them well enough, I am sure,” Kili said. “Even without the paper in front of him, he never forgets all the particulars of the deals he makes.”

“That is all well and good if he does his own books,” Fili said, “but it is rather less helpful when someone must do them for him.” Then he lapsed into silence for a little while, content to sit in the late afternoon sun and watch Kili tend to the weeds.

After some time, Kili grunted and rose to his feet, stretching out his back and his neck. He fetched the wheelbarrow into the garden and began piling the weeds into it, occasionally glancing in Fili’s direction, frowning a bit. “Is there something you want?” he asked, when the weeds were all loaded, and the garden gate shut and securely fastened behind him. “I have a little more work to do out here, but if you need something tended to-”

“No,” Fili said, “nothing in particular. I just thought I might keep you company while you work.”

Kili opened and shut his mouth without saying anything, then subsided. He disposed of the weeds and dealt with several other small chores, all the while glancing back at Fili, looking consternated. “If it is dinner that concerns you-”

“No,” Fili said, with a sigh, “I thought it would be nice to spend some time with you, that is all. I have not seen you much of late. Though now that you mention it, I have had nothing to eat since lunch, and that was many hours ago.”

Kili relaxed. “Well, there is enough stew left over for your supper, and plenty of bread and butter.”

“That will be fine,” Fili said, and he followed Kili back into the house, and towards the washroom where Kili stripped off his filthy shirt and washed himself until the water in the basin was dark as mud, and his hands were pale and clean again. If Kili thought it odd that Fili was following him around from room to room, he did not say so.

In the kitchen, Kili took a pot from the side of the hearth and moved it over the fire. “It should take only a few minutes,” he said, “the stew is already a bit warm. If you are very hungry, you could eat it now.”

“I am very hungry,” Fili said, “but not so hungry I cannot wait for my meal to be heated properly.” He sat down, relaxed and content, while Kili bustled competently around the kitchen, fetching a bowl and spoon, and cutting a thick slice of a dark seeded bread and slathering it with thick yellow butter, then finally pouring a generous portion of ale into a tankard.

“Here,” Kili said, emptying the contents of the pot into Fili’s bowl. “It is not quite an entire portion, but we have some cheese if you are still hungry afterwards.”

“I’m sure it will be enough,” Fili said. “There is plenty of meat.” Though in the end it turned out he was hungrier than he had thought, and ended up eating everything Kili had served him as well as another slice of buttered bread and several slices of cheese, before he pushed his chair away from the table and leaned back with a sigh. “That was much better than anything they served at the festival. I think all the good cooks have left for the Iron Hills. There were not even any good pastries.”

“Then I am not surprised you came home early.” Kili plucked the plate off the table and dunked it in the washing bin, wiping it clean with a few efficient swipes of a rag, and placing it in the rack.

“Washing dishes was once my chore too,” Fili said.

“It was drying that was yours,” Kili said, now washing out the stew pot and up to his elbows in suds. “Thorin would not let you wash, because the plates would end up hardly cleaner than when you started.”

Fili frowned. “Hmm, I suppose you are right. Well, at any rate, I am sure you are better at both of those tasks than I am.”

“That would not be difficult,” Kili said tartly. He finished with the stew pot and dried his hands, then looked reflectively at the remainder of the loaf of bread and remaining cheese. “Are you quite sure you’ve finished?”

“Ugh,” Fili said. “I could not eat one more bite, even if it were one of your apple pies. Though I might try, in that case. But yes, I am quite certain I’m finished.”

Kili nodded, and took the plate he had just washed, and sliced a few pieces of bread for his own dinner. Fili supposed Kili would have eaten the stew himself had Fili not come home unexpectedly, but such was often the way of it in their house, and Kili never seemed to mind. Warm buttered bread and tangy cheese was probably far better than he got on the road with Thorin anyway. Once out of the Blue Mountains and away from proper folk, Fili understood that there was altogether less food available and what there was of it, cold and greasy and unpleasant.

“Oh,” Fili said, as another thought struck him. “I forgot to tell you.”

Kili frowned around his mouthful of bread and cheese. “Forgot to tell me what?” he said, once he had swallowed.

“Nothing so terrible as to deserve such a look as that,” Fili said. “It is only that I went through town on the way home, and stopped by Bergin’s house. I invited him to come tomorrow, but he said he is minding Kethi and should have to bring her, which I said was fine, and then he said that Albed and his family are visiting and Albed would like to see me, and I said Albed could come along too.”

Kili had stopped eating and had gone carefully still.

“You are having your friends over here tomorrow?” He looked quite upset, though maybe only to Fili, who knew him so well. He frowned and fiddled with the butter knife. “The house is not clean.”

This was only true according to Kili’s unreasonably high standards of cleanliness, by which the house was not clean unless it appeared that no one had ever actually lived in it. Fili scoffed. “Bergin’s house is a disaster compared to ours. Berlad brings home loads of things that he cannot sell, and they are stacked to the ceiling on every possible surface. Nithi can hardly move around them to tidy, so I think she has just given up. You would be sneezing all the time, if you visited, there is so much dust!”

Kili was still frowning, and was slow to answer. “Thorin does not like to have company unless the house is properly clean. He says it reflects poorly on him.”

“Nobody would even notice,” Fili said. “I have been inside many houses in Ered Luin and none are so clean as this one, not even Balin and Dwalin’s, and you know how Balin is about dirt. Anyway they are not coming until after lunch, so you shall have all morning to put whatever little mess there is to right.”

Kili picked listlessly at the scraps of cheese on his plate. “I suppose.”

“Come, I have seen you clean the house in less than a whole morning when it is in a far worse state. But you shall have to stay in the back once they arrive,” Fili added. “You know how Albed is. Oh, don’t look at me like that, I know it’s ridiculous. But I think it is quite a victory that he is coming to the house at all. If he survives the day with no mishaps, he may be convinced that you are not so cursed after all.”

Kili did not look especially cheered by this.

“Don’t be so glum,” Fili said. “Surely it cannot matter that much to you. What does Thorin have you doing tomorrow, that you cannot do in the back room?”

Kili was silent for a moment. Then he said, reluctantly, “Nothing.”

“See,” Fili said, “so if there is nothing else that you should be doing, there is no problem at all! Did you ever mend the leak in the tub?”

“I have patched it,” Kili said listlessly, “but not mended it permanently.”

“Then that is perfect! I will help you move the tub into the back room tonight, then you can mend it tomorrow afternoon. They shan’t be staying for dinner, of course, since we have no other cook but you, so you shall be free by supper time.”

Kili nodded, but said nothing else, just picked some more at his bread.

“Well, it is depressing me to watch you not eat that,” Fili said, rising to his feet. “That is perfectly good bread, you know. Finish it up! I shall be playing my fiddle while I wait for you to come move the tub.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning dawned bright and beautiful, and Fili felt quite refreshed. He took his time with his washing, and wandered into the kitchen to find a large plate of buttered toast and sausage and eggs warming on the hearth. He ate his breakfast and went in search of Kili. It was not a long search, for the hens were all afrenzy, and that meant surely Kili was feeding them and fetching the eggs.

Fili did not much like to enter the henhouse, for it was crowded and smelly and the hens had a terrible habit of getting under his feet so that he stumbled — Fili swore they did it on purpose, though neither Kili nor Thorin seemed to believe it — and so he waited outside for Kili to emerge blinking into the morning sun.

“Good morning,” Fili said cheerfully.

“Good morning,” Kili answered. “Have you eaten?”

"Do I look ill? Of course I have eaten. And a good breakfast it was, too. The sausage was particularly fine.”

“I hope you did not gobble it down like you usually do,” Kili said. “That was the last of it that Berlad brought back from his travels this winter.”

“Oh, I gobbled it down as quickly as ever,” Fili said, “but do not fear, for I enjoyed every hasty bite. You should get your breakfast, now I am done with mine. I was quite poky this morning. You must be starving.”

Kili looked almost amused. “I ate yesterday,” he said, “so I would not be starving even if I did not eat again until tomorrow. I shall finish the outside chores first. There is still the cow to milk, and the garden needs more tending. I should like to have everything finished before your friends arrive.”

“You shall have to eat before they arrive,” Fili said, “and surely that is more important than the outside chores.”

“To one ruled by his stomach, perhaps,” Kili said pointedly, “but I should rather get this finished, else I will have to do it all tomorrow, and tomorrow is already set for doing your laundry. I do not know what you do at these festivals that get your clothes so filthy, but they are all over mud from ankle to waist, and I do not even know if the shirt can be salvaged.”

“Oh,” Fili said, “we played shinty, but the fields were still wet from the rains, and you could hardly take a step without slipping. We stopped keeping score after the first half, but I do not think I have enjoyed a game so much for several years.”

“I did not think you had even played for several years,” Kili said. “You have not mentioned it for ages.”

“Oh, we play now and again,” Fili said, “but I suppose it is not so much fun to talk about as it is to play.”

Kili looked quite skeptical, but then he had never been overly interested in talk of shinty or any other sport, which Fili supposed was because he had never played them. In truth, Kili did not look particularly interested in hearing anything else Fili had to say about the festival. He had finished with the eggs and was gathering the bucket and stool to milk the cow, and Fili felt suddenly and peculiarly as if he were in the way of Kili’s efficient bustling.

“Well,” Fili said heartily, “I suppose I shall take advantage of the fine weather and practice with my swords. I am using two now, you know, and it is far more than twice as tricky as using one.”

Kili's expression grew impossibly more skeptical. Fili supposed Kili was no more impressed with talk of Fili’s prowess at swords than he was interested in talk of shinty, probably because he had never had to wield a sword himself, nor had ever held one, even in play.

“You should watch me some time,” Fili said. “Really, I am quite good.”

“It would look all the same to me if you were horrible,” Kili said. “From what I have seen it is just a lot of waving pointy pieces of metal in the air. I could not tell if you were doing it well or awfully.”

“Hmmph,” Fili said. “Whereas your archery requires much more skill, I suppose?”

Kili shrugged. “At least with a bow it is clear how close one comes to the center of the target.”

“Some day we shall have a contest, you and I,” Fili said, “and see which is the better weapon. But look, the cow is growing restless. Go finish your chores so you shall have time to eat.”

“You are far too concerned with my eating,” Kili said, but he obediently went off with his bucket and stool.

Fili spent the next hour practicing with his swords in the yard, keeping one eye on Kili as he fetched and toted and worked. There were far more chores to do than Fili remembered, though perhaps, he thought, he had never really known all it took to keep their little household running, and certainly he had not spent very much time these past few years watching Kili work. At the end of the hour, Fili was soaked with sweat and his arms were starting to quiver with exertion, so he took himself inside for a quick wash and change of clothes. He dropped his dirty clothes in the back room with the rest of the laundry — there was in fact quite a lot of it, a little of Thorin’s, but most of it his own — and then took advantage of his free time to play his fiddle some more.

“Is that the song from Bree?” Kili asked, when he entered the parlor. He was more soaked with sweat than Fili, and his hair was plastered to his neck. He looked rather sodden and grumpy. “I thought you said you heard but a few notes.”

“More than a few, I suppose,” Fili said. “It is a fetching tune. You shall have to sing the rest of it for me so I can learn it all. Oh, not now,” he said to Kili’s scowl. “It is nearly mid-day, and you still have not eaten.”

“It is almost time for your lunch.”

“Bother my lunch,” Fili said. “You have been working all morning. Eat something or I shall have to force you, and I think I could still manage it even now that you are of a size with me.”

Kili went still for a moment. “Might I wash first?” he asked cautiously. “I am covered with mud.”

“Of course you can — I was not actually going to force you, you know,” Fili said, exasperated and following Kili into the washroom. “You have lost what little sense of humor you ever had. I do not know what happened.”

Kili’s shoulders went tense, and Fili sighed. “By the forge, I cannot say anything to you anymore. It’s hardly worth trying to have a conversation. You know you are allowed to have breakfast before I have my lunch, so you might as well eat. I can last long enough until you have had a bit of something. I’ll finish tidying the parlor.”

“The parlor is perfectly tidy.” Kili sounded offended. “I cleaned it last night after you went to bed. You have been sitting in it. What did you see that needed tidying?”

“Well,” Fili said, then paused. “There is my fiddle, for one thing.”

Kili turned his head from the basin and stared at him. Really, he had grown quite impossible. Fili muttered something inarticulate and slunk away.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of young dwarves enter the house, and some chaos ensues.

_Friends don’t spy; true friendship is about privacy, too. -- Stephen King_

* * *

 

Bergin and Albed and Kethi arrived shortly after Fili had finished with his own lunch. Kili had just finished cleaning the dishes when the knock came at the door, and he hurried into the back room, shutting the door firmly behind him.   
  
“Welcome, welcome,” Fili said to his friends, bowing quite grandly. “What an honor it is to have three such fine dwarves in my home.”  
  
Bergin stuck his tongue out at him while Kethi, giggling, curtsied extravagantly. Albed was gazing about apprehensively, craning his head this way and that.  
  
“He’s tucked away,” Fili said with a sigh. “Really, Albed, you know it is not an infection you can catch just by seeing him. He is out and about in the world all the time when he travels with Thorin, and I have yet to hear a tale of anyone dropping dead just from looking at him.”  
  
Albed had the grace to look abashed, which was an improvement from earlier visits.  
  
Kethi laughed prettily. “You are the silliest of all my cousins, Albed. Fili has shared this house with Kili for all his life, and see how tall and hale and strong he is, while you are short and fat and can hardly swing a sword without risking lopping off your own toes.”  
  
“Mother says-” Albed began, but Bergin made a groaning noise and clapped his hand over Albed’s mouth.   
  
“We all know what your mother says,” Bergin sighed. “And she is the most superstitious dwarf that ever lived in all the Blue Mountains. You laugh at her other follies; I do not know why you take this one so seriously. Come, we have not seen Fili for weeks, and hardly at all this whole spring. Let’s not waste time on such silliness when we could be hearing stories about who was drunkest at the festival.”  
  
“I do not know why you even ask,” Fili said, laughing, “when the answer has always been Bofur ever since the Urs moved to town. Though I will say Dwalin gave him a fair contest this year. I do not think I have ever seen him quite so deep in his cups. If we had held the sword competition then, I would surely have won.”  
  
“I do not think you could beat Dwalin even if he were so drunk as to be unconscious,” Bergin said, grinning, and Fili could of course not let that stand, and so quite a merry wrestling match ensued, at the end of which the parlor was considerably the worse for wear.  
  
“Well,” Fili said, as he took in the destruction they had wrought, “at least nothing is broken.”  
  
Bergin looked around the room doubtfully. “How can you be certain? Everything has gone everywhere.”   
  
“Then we shall have to put it back to rights,” Fili said. “But carefully! Kili will know if anything is even an inch out of place, and then he will be impossible.”  
  
Albed stared at him. “Kili shall be impossible? Is he ... he is allowed to be impossible? I thought he must attend to everything for you, whether he likes it or not.”  
  
“Not everything,” Fili said, frowning. He had forgotten how much Albed irritated him, since he had moved away. “And he has figured out a way to be be very loudly disapproving even when silent and obedient. He is well practiced at it and it is quite unbearable. Anyway, unless you want me to call him out here to tidy, we shall have to do it ourselves.”  
  
Bergin looked exceedingly interested in possibly meeting Kili, and Kethi looked even more hopeful still, but Albed’s expression was horrified. “I think we can put it to rights ourselves,” he said quickly, “can’t we, cousins?”  
  
Kethi giggled at him, not as nastily as Fili would have. “I think we can manage it,” she said lightly, “but Bergin cannot be allowed to touch anything that might break. He is too clumsy. He trips over his own feet walking from the table to the cupboard.”  
  
“It is true,” Bergin sighed. “But I can set the furniture aright, at least, and Kethi can sweep. She is quite good at it. You, Fili, shall have to direct Albed where to put the small things. You can pretend he is Kili and order him around.”  
  
“Bergin!” Kethi said sharply. “Whyever would you say such a thing — look, you have made FIli cross now.”  
  
“I am not cross,” Fili said crossly. “But I do not spend my days directing Kili’s every minute. I do not know what you think happens in this house.”  
  
Bergin cocked his head and looked at him sideways. “Why, I think Kili does the laundry and the cooking and the cleaning and all the outside chores as well, and it is a good thing too, for if it were left to you to tend yourself, you should be half-dressed and underfed, with no fire to keep you warm and no room to move for all the mess you would leave behind you.”  
  
Kethi hit him. “Brother! I cannot imagine what has gotten into you today. Oh, Fili, do not make such a face. Bergin is only teasing. No one expects you to do those things for yourself. That is what Kili is for.”  
  
“That is what he _does_ ,” Fili said irritably. “That is not what he is _for_.” He glanced around the room, annoyed now. “You lot can all start cleaning. I am going to change my shirt. A button’s come off this one.” He stalked off towards his room, feeling thoroughly discontented.  
  
Heavy boots clumped down the hall a few moments later, when he was fastening up the new shirt. “There you are,” Bergin said, poking his head into Fili’s room. “You did not really mean for us to clean the whole parlor without you, did you? Albed was sure you were joking.”  
  
“I was not joking,” Fili said. “It was all in order before you came, and now it is all in disorder, and it must be cleaned before Thorin comes home.”  
  
“It will not be in any better order if Albed and I try to straighten it,” Bergin said. “My own mother does not let me tidy my house. You heard Kethi say so! And Albed is even clumsier than I am.”  
  
“I am not,” Albed said, entering the room. There was now hardly any space for Fili to move. “Mother says I am just too busy thinking, that’s all.”  
  
“You are clumsy,” Bergin insisted. “You have always been clumsy, ever since we were dwarflings and you got your foot stuck in the honey pot and tripped into the kitchen table and broke it in half.”  
  
Albed colored. “That was an accident,” he said, scowling, “and you were not even there.”  
  
“Oh, but I have heard the story many times,” Bergin said with a grin. “And it grows no less humorous with repetition.”  
  
There was a light cough from the hall, and Kethi stuck her head in the doorway. “What is this, all the boys crowded into one room, leaving me alone in the parlor, where anyone might come in? What if Thorin came home and found me there with no one to watch me?”  
  
“Sister mine,” Bergin said, “you are nearly of age, and hardly in need of watching. But you are right, it was uncommonly rude of Albed to leave you to your own devices in a strange home. Come, Fili,” he said over Albed’s offended sputtering, “we cannot cram another dwarf in here, so let us go back and finish tidying the parlor. It is truly not so bad as all that, it was only the tumbled furniture that made it look quite so messy. It will only take a little while, and then we can sit comfortably. You have cards somewhere in the house, I assume? We can play a few rounds of gleek. Kethi is still learning, so she can be on my team.”  
  
“Hoy!” Albed said. “You need no help at any card game. If anyone is to have a partner, it should be me, else I shall lose all my pennies to you, and I have only just earned them back from the last time.”  
  
“Very well,” Bergin sighed. “Though I do not think you will be much of a teacher for her, and she is hardly the best student.”  
  
An annoyed spluttering came from out in the hall where Kethi waited. “If you think I cannot hear you insulting me,” she said, “you are wrong, and do not think I shall forget it, either. Goodness, Fili, you have so many rooms in your house. We have but four.”  
  
“Ah, but we are not royalty,” Bergin said, “and if we had more rooms, Father would only fill them with more useless things he cannot sell.”  
  
“I do not think we have so very many rooms,” Fili said, counting them out on his fingers as they filed into the hall. “The kitchen, the parlor, the schoolroom, the back room for laundry and such, Thorin’s office — but that is very small — and then just the three bedrooms. Oh, and the washroom, of course, but that hardly counts. It is also quite small. All the rooms are small, really, except for the parlor. There are far grander houses in town, with many more rooms of twice the size.”  
  
“But three bedrooms,” Albed asked, eyebrows raised. “Has Kili his own?”  
  
“Of course he has,” Fili said. “Where do you think he sleeps, on a mat by the hearth?”  
  
Albed, to Fili’s great consternation, actually appeared to be considering it. “I suppose not,” he said. “Though I never thought ... which is his room, then? Can we see it?”  
  
“Kili’s room?” Fili thought this quite a peculiar request. “You can hardly stand the thought of seeing him. I have to hide him away in the back room so as to avoid it! Why should you want to see his bedroom? Don’t you think you might catch some bad luck by standing there?”  
  
“It can hardly have any more bad luck within it than the rest of your house,” Albed said, “and you have spent years telling me that your house has no bad luck at all, or at least no more than any other house in Ered Luin.”  
  
“Because it doesn’t,” Fili said, “and if you believe that it does, you are foolish.”  
  
“Well, I don’t. I am here, aren’t I?” Albed paused. “But I am uncommonly curious. Come, show us. It can’t be any messier than your room.”  
  
Fili scowled. Admittedly, his room was not very neat, but he still did not think it was very nice of to Albed to mention it. The fact that Kili’s room would undoubtedly be spotless did not make him feel any more charitable toward the idea. “I have been away for several days and practicing my swords all morning. I have not had time to tidy. When I am king, you know, you shall have to be more respectful to me.”  
  
“He shall be,” Bergin said. “He shall bow so deeply you will see the backs of his thighs. Though I think I probably shall not be any more respectful to you whatsoever, and you shall have to tolerate it or banish me.”  
  
“I cannot banish you,” Fili said. “I shall need you standing right next to me so I shall always look quite tall and handsome. Here,” he said, swinging open the door, “this is Kili’s room.”  
  
The others peered in interestedly, even Bergin, who had been in the house many times but had never, Fili supposed, had any occasion to see Kili’s room. Albed, uncommonly bold but typically nosy, even dared to enter.  
  
“It is very small,” Kethi said. “Smaller than yours. Goodness, it is hardly the size of a closet.”  
  
“I think it _was_ a closet originally,” Fili said. “It is still better than sleeping by the hearth. Albed, what are you — I do not think you should be touching his things.”  
  
Albed looked up from the book he was fingering. “Why?” he asked. “ _Khazd khuv_ may not own anything. Everyone knows that. So everything in here really belongs to you or Thorin. Anyway, I am just looking. This book,” he said dubiously, “is all sorts of maths.”  
  
“Oh,” Fili said, “Kili has always loved maths. He is far cleverer at it than me. I used to teach him, you know, when we were younger.” He frowned. “It has been many years since then. I am surprised he still keeps any of the books. What other books has he got in his cupboard?”  
  
“There is a book on gardening that looks to be 100 years old. I think it may fall apart if I look at it for too long. There is another that is — oh, I had a copy of this one. It is filled with silly stories for dwarflings. My father would read it to me before bed, if he was home from the tavern early enough. And this one looks to be some treatise on archery.” Albed held up another battered volume. “Written by ... oh, some name I cannot pronounce. It is not dwarfish, certainly.” He frowned. “Do you suppose that man gave it to him? The ranger, the one who tried to steal him away. What was his name?”  
  
“Fëor,” Fili said with a scowl. “And I do not think he gave Kili anything but a distrust of anyone who would be too kind to him.”  
  
“Well, someone gave it to him,” Albed said, laying the book down. “How is it that he can read, anyway? I did not think _khazd khuv_ took lessons.”  
  
“I suppose he just picked it up,” Fili said, a little uncomfortably. _Khazd khuv_ did not traditionally take lessons, and Kili hadn’t, exactly, but still Fili did not like anyone to dwell on his reading. “Balin was forever around the house, you know, and Kili had to tidy the schoolroom as part of his chores. Oh, come, there is nothing interesting about his clothing.”  
  
Albed let go of the sleeve he was fingering. “These are yours, surely? I mean, they were. I recognize this shirt. You caught it on the fence when we were running from the butcher. I can see where the rip was repaired.”  
  
“They were,” Fili said. “Most of his clothing was mine once. Though it is harder now that he has caught up to me in size. Actually his legs are longer than mine, so he has to let out my old trousers else look like a scarecrow. He is skinny enough for it.”  
  
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Albed asked. “That he should wear your things?”  
  
Fili stared at him. “Why should it bother me? He cannot run around naked. So what if he wears my old clothes? He keeps them mended well enough, and the clothes would be turned into rags otherwise.” He shook his head. “You have the most peculiar notions.”  
  
“I do not think my notions are at all peculiar. I know lots of other dwarves who feel the same. It is your notions that are peculiar, but perhaps that comes from having to live with him,” Albed said. He pulled a bow out of the cupboard next. “Goodness, this bow is heavier than I imagined. I suppose all that time spent chopping wood has given him strength enough to hold it. How does it work?”  
  
“Well, the first thing you have to do is hold it the other way round,” Fili said dryly. “Else you shall be shooting arrows behind you. Oh, careful now, if you play with it too much you might break it, and don’t tell me it doesn’t matter because it isn’t his — Thorin would not be happy with you either way.”  
  
“I am not going to break it just by holding it wrong. What use would such a flimsy weapon be to a dwarf, if it might fall apart so easily? Anyway, he has a second one here.”  
  
“A second!” Fili said, astonished and a little disgruntled. He had only just received his second sword, and Thorin had made a very big fuss about the expense. It hardly seemed fair that Kili should have a second weapon. “I have never seen it.”  
  
“Well, he can hardly use two at the same time,” Bergin said sensibly. “It is not like using two swords, you know. You cannot shoot a bow with just the one hand. Would you even notice if he used a different bow from day to day?”  
  
“Of course I would,” Fili said, though in truth he was not at all certain he could tell one bow from another, nor that he could have picked Kili’s usual bow from a pack of them. “Oh, Albed, put it back already before you hurt yourself. Now it is upside down.”  
  
Albed looked at him doubtfully. “It looks exactly the same one way to the other. How can you tell which way is up or down?’

Fili was not interested in continuing to talk about the bow, nor eager to spend any more time in Kili’s room looking at his things. “If you are so curious about how it works,” he said meanly, “I would be glad to call Kili out to explain it to you.”  
  
This proved to be an entirely effective threat. Albed dropped the bow as if it were a piece of metal straight out of the forge fire. “I do not need to learn to use the bow,” he said dismissively. “Any real dwarf knows the sword is the better weapon.”  
  
Bergin coughed. “I am feeling cramped in this little space. Can we return to the parlor? We can at least put the furniture back to rights before Thorin comes home, and then we shall play cards, and then we can have some treats Mother baked for us. Cinnamon pastries with honeyed ale to wash them down, and some of that funny dried elf fruit Father brought back from Grey Havens.”  
  
Albed perked up at the mention of food and followed Bergin and Kethi obediently enough down the hallway. Fili took one last look into Kili’s small but immaculately tended room, and shut the door behind him.  


* * *

  
Thorin came home late in the afternoon, covered with grime from the forge and looking rather tired. “Oh,” he said, as he walked in the door to find the friends huddled over a game of tafl. “Fili. I did not expect you home until tomorrow. And your friends too. Why, this cannot be little Kethi, can it? Look how well your beard has come in! You take after your mother quite strongly.”  
  
Kethi blushed, and curtsied. “Thank you, sire, she will be most pleased to hear you have said so.”  
  
Thorin made a face. “In this house I am just Thorin, lass. Especially when I am this filthy.” He nodded then at Albed and Bergin. “It is good to see you lads, too. I hear you have been learning the tanning trade, Mister Albed.”  
  
“I have,” Albed said proudly. “Mister Olfer says I have a natural talent for it.”  
  
“A good thing,” Bergin said slyly, “since you have no artistry to join your father’s metal work business.”  
  
Thorin raised his eyebrows. “I shall stay far away from that argument. I have enough of people yelling at each other around me all day. Excuse me. I must wash the day off me if I can.” He nodded again, then left.  
  
“He is quite handsome,” Kethi said. “‘Even up close. 'Tis a pity he has never married.”  
  
Fili made a face. “You would not say so if you had to live with him. He is irritable most of the time, drinks far too much, and likes everything to be done exactly his way and no other. I think he would make a terrible husband. Anyway, he will not wed until we have reclaimed Erebor.”  
  
“But that may be many years!” Kethi said.   
  
“And the maidens are better off for it,” Fili said. “Believe me.” And then, “Ha!” as he moved his king towards the corner of the tafl board. “I think you are done for now, my friend.”  
  
“Have you always been so arrogant?” Bergin groaned. “Or is it only since you got those fancy Durin braids in your beard?” He moved a piece decisively. “I am not ready to roll over for you just yet, my liege, though I admit it does look bleak.”  
  
“He only says that,” Kethi offered helpfully, “when he is harboring some secret plan. I would be very careful now, Fili.”  
  
“I am always careful,” Fili said, but he let his hand hover over the board. He and Bergin were evenly matched, and it would be no fun to lose so close to winning.  
  
“Kili!” That was Thorin, calling loudly from the kitchen.   
  
Fili shook his head and whispered, “I told you he would not make a good husband. He is always yelling from other rooms, you know. I cannot tell you how many mornings I have been woken up by him bidding Kili to come attend him from the opposite corner of the house.”  
  
“Kili!” Thorin sounded a little irritable now, and Fili winced.  
  
“Yes, _shemor_ ,” Kili answered breathlessly, skidding into the kitchen. Fili could see Kili’s profile from his vantage point in the parlor, hair tied back in a messy ponytail and with tar streaking his cheeks and neck.   
  
“You are filthy. What have you been doing?” Thorin asked. He sounded disapproving, and Fili did not need to imagine very hard to see the exact shape of Thorin’s frown in his head.  
  
“I-” Kili said. “I have been repairing the tub.”  
  
“The tub.” It was never good when Thorin took to repeating what you said. Fili felt a nervous twinge in his stomach on Kili’s behalf.  
  
“Yes, _shemor_.”  
  
“You already repaired the tub,” Thorin said, “weeks ago.”  
  
“Only a patch.” Kili said. He hesitated, then added, “It would not have held much longer.”  
  
Thorin grunted. It was not a happy grunt. “That is all well and good,” he said, “but what of dinner? You knew I would be home.”  
  
“I — yes, I knew, you said so, but I — it is not dinner time yet. The sun has not yet crossed the shed.”  
  
“Almost,” Thorin said, “and I do not see anything yet prepared.”  
  
Kili was quiet. Then he said, “No, I have not yet prepared anything, but there is duck that can be eaten cold or warm, and cheese and bread. It will take just a few minutes to make a plate.”  
  
“Warm the duck,” Thorin said. “I would prefer it to eating it cold.”  
  
“Yes, _shemor_ ,” Kili said.  
  
There was a moment or two of silence from the kitchen. Fili could just hear Kili moving about. Kili was always very quiet, for his movements were controlled and careful and he never knocked into chairs or spilled spices onto the floor, quite unlike Fili, who was only careful when he wished to be, and rarely bothered in the house.  
  
Thorin grunted again. “Tomorrow I shall need your help changing the wheel on the wagon, and also we will be getting some meat delivered which shall need salting and storing, and after that you shall need to start fixing and painting the house. That must be done by the end of next week, before Balin returns. He is bringing Bildur with him and Mahal knows if the house is not perfect I shall never hear the end of it.”  
  
“I will make sure there is nothing he can find fault with.”  
  
“Well, that is impossible. He will find fault in the Halls of Waiting, but let us at least make him work for it. Oh, you shall have to mend my blue coat, too. Two of the buttons have gone missing and it is all covered in ash from the forge.”  
  
“I shall be very busy, then,” Kili said. “Here, your dinner is ready, and there is custard if you want something sweet after.” He paused. “If I might -- the tar will set if I do not stir it, and then it is a business to get it softened again, and I am not quite done with the repair.”  
  
“Oh, you needn’t stay here and watch me eat,” Thorin said. “There’s no point cleaning the kitchen until Fili’s eaten anyway. You will have quite a time of it getting yourself clean, you know, and I think maybe that shirt will be fit only for rags.”  
  
“It was an old shirt,” Kili said, though he sounded a bit regretful. “But we are short of rags.” Then the kitchen grew quiet except for the sounds of Thorin eating.  
  
Fili realized he had not moved in several minutes, and was sitting with his hand still hovering over the board. His friends were sitting still and silent as well, quite uncomfortable from the look of it. Fili’s cheeks grew warm with sudden embarrassment, that they should have heard the long list of things Kili was expected to tend to, while he himself spent his time practicing swords and reading dusty old treatises and going to festivals as Thorin’s representative. “Here,” he said, and moved his king towards the edge. “I do not think you have any secret plan, Bergin, except how to sneak some wine from your father’s stores in the cellar.”  
  
“I need not sneak it,” Bergin answered, his voice a little too loud and jolly. “Father lets me have what I want, so long as it is not too excessive an amount. He worries I will catch the drinking sickness, like the men.”  
  
“What is the drinking sickness?” Fili asked. His cheeks were still burning but at least his friends had not noticed — or if they had, they were considerately not mentioning it.  
  
“Oh,” Bergin said, “Father tells me that if men drink too much and too often, they can become so used to it that they cannot go a day without, or even less time than that, so they are drunk all the time and become unfit to do work or anything else.”  
  
“That is quite strange,” Fili said. “But men are of weaker constitution than dwarves. They are always sick and dying, Thorin tells me.”  
  
“Perhaps that is why they breed so often,” Kethi said, “so they have enough people,” and then conversation stopped for a moment while Bergin and Fili finished their game, Fili coming out the victor, but only just, and possibly only because Bergin was distracted and tense, which left Fili uncommonly irritable.  
  
“Kili does not sound like I imagined,” Albed said, when the game was done and the board and pieces stored away.   
  
“Why,” Fili said, straightening, “what did you imagine, that he should be beating his breast with remorse in every instant, and weeping with every breath?”  
  
Albed colored and said “No,” although Fili suspected he rather had. “It is just — he sounds perfectly ordinary.”  
  
“He _is_ ordinary. He is just a dwarf, you know.”  
  
“I know,” Albed said. “It is. Well, I expected him to be slow, I suppose.”  
  
Fili stared at him, even more annoyed than he had been but a few minutes earlier, though he could not have said exactly why. “You are the slow one, obviously. There is nothing about being _khazd khuv_ that makes a dwarf dimwitted. If anything he is cleverer than an ordinary dwarf. Cleverer than you, certainly. I think you still do not understand fractions, and he can do them in his head.”   
  
“I do not need to know fractions,” Albed said, in a very stiff voice. “And I cannot imagine he shall ever need to know them either.”  
  
“Don’t be mad at each other,” Kethi said, placing a hand on Albed’s arm and her other on Fili’s. “Fili, he was only trying to say something nice, you know. He is just not very good at it.”  
  
“He needn’t put himself to the trouble,” Fili said grumpily. “It’s nothing to me what he thinks of Kili, only that he makes himself sound stupid when he says such things.”  
  
Kethi frowned at him, which further soured Fili’s mood.  
  
“If we do not leave soon,” Bergin interrupted, “we shall not reach home before the sun sets, and I promised to have Kethi back well before.”  
  
Kethi puffed a breath, exasperated. “I shall be of age in but two summers, yet they treat me as if I were still a child.”  
  
“As you are, ” said Bergin, in manic cheer, “for two more summers. But come, Mother is making lamb, and Father will eat it all if we are late.You know how he is.”  
  
Kethi laughed, and Bergin too, and even Albed chuckled a little, so that Fili had no choice but to at least smile, although he did not particularly feel like smiling. His dark mood remained even after his friends left, not before they extracted from him a promise to attend them in town in the next few days, and so finally he took himself out to the yard to practice his sword some more. It proved a spectacular failure at soothing his mood, for he kept hearing in his head Kili saying it was all a lot of waving pointy pieces of metal in the air, and he could not make it stop no matter how hard he tried to think of something else.  
  
Finally, before the last of the light had quite gone, he fetched the axe from the barn and took out his ill mood on a pile of wood, and by the time he was finished, he felt a bit better.  
  
Kili was waiting for him when he came into the house, picking bits of dried tar off his hands. His gaze was very suspicious. “Why were you were chopping wood?”  
  
“What,” said Fili, “are you the only one allowed to be useful in this house?”  
  
Kili looked at him skeptically.   
  
Fili felt an unaccountable need to defend himself, which was ridiculous, because the one dwarf in the entire world that Fili need not defend himself to was Kili. “I was of a mind to stretch my muscles, and now we have enough wood to last us a whole week.”  
  
“We already had enough wood to last us longer than that,” Kili said. “I chopped a full cord but last month, and the weather has been uncommonly mild.”  
  
“Fine,” said Fili tartly, “if it bothers you, I shall not do it again.”  
  
Kili was quiet for a moment. “It does not bother me,” he said carefully. “I — I am sorry, I should not have led you to think so. I will be pleased of it when the cord runs out.” He grimaced. “It is only that you have not helped out with chores for a long time, and I was surprised. But I am grateful. Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” Fili said, and hoped he did not sound churlish. He followed Kili into the kitchen, where Kili had already laid out a plate for him of duck and bread and cheese, with a sweet butter pickle on the side. The duck was delicious, and Fili ate all there was on his plate and then had seconds.   
  
“Your friends,” Kili said, while Fili was eating custard. “I know you were in the parlor when Thorin bade me come to the kitchen. I hope I did not make them uncomfortable, being so close by.”  
  
“Pfft,” Fili said. “It is only Albed who cares. I do not think Bergin or Kethi are afraid of you one bit.”  
  
“Afraid!” Kili said. He made a peculiar face. “Is Mister Albed afraid of me, then?”  
  
Fili took a big spoonful of custard, hedging. “Well,” he said, around the custard, “I suppose that is exaggerating the case. He is not so much afraid as —” Then he stopped, because he did not really know how to describe Albed’s strange way of thinking.  
  
Kili had taken out some potatoes from the pantry and was cleaning them, perhaps to let them slow roast on the hearth overnight. “Other dwarves are not afraid of me. It is only that they find me distasteful, and there are so many rules about how they must act around me that it is easier just to avoid me altogether. But they are not afraid.” He paused and wrinkled his brow uncertainly. “At least I do not think they are afraid.”  
  
“Albed is a dunderhead,” Fili said firmly. “Even if he is afraid of you, it just means he is more of a dunderhead. Also his mother is so superstitious she bites a piece of pewter every time it thunders. Who gave you the archery book?”  
  
Kili looked a bit taken aback. “What?”  
  
“The archery book,” Fili said. “In your cupboard. Who gave it to you? It was not Fëor, was it?”  
  
“No,” Kili said after a long, bewildered moment. “It was Mister Berlad, actually. He brought it back with him from Grey Havens this summer past.”  
  
“Berlad did!” Fili found this rather extraordinary, moreso because Bergin hadn’t said a word about it, which meant either he didn’t want Albed to know, or else Berlad had not told him about it in the first place. “Why?”  
  
Kili chewed as his lip. “He often brings books for Thorin, you know, and he came across this one and thought — it was written by a man, you see, and so the elves didn’t want it and he said he knew of no other dwarves in the Blue Mountains who could make use of it, but I might. He gave it to Thorin, of course,” he added, sounding worried. “He knows I cannot own it myself.” He had stopped paying any attention to his potatoes. “Why were you looking in my cupboard? Did you think I had taken something I ought not to have?”  
  
This was one of the sillier things Kili had ever said, and Fili told him so. Fili did not think Kili had ever once taken something he should not have, except perhaps when they were very young and Fili had tricked him into it. Then Fili said, “It is just that my friends wanted to see your room. They have seen every other room in the house, and they have seen my room, so it was only fair that they see yours.”  
  
“Well, yes, I suppose that makes sense,” Kili said, though his tone said quite the opposite.  
  
“And Albed was curious,” Fili said. “He is always very curious about you.”  
  
“I do not know why,” Kili said, looking as if he had no idea what to make of this. “I am very ordinary.”  
  
“You are not the least bit ordinary to Albed,” Fili said. “And I do not know what he expected to find in your cupboard, but I think he was disappointed when it was only books. And quite surprised. He did not expect you to read, you see.”  
  
“There is no rule that says I cannot,” Kili said with some agitation. “Even if it is not customary, but Mr. Balin — he would not have let me learn, if it was against the law. He is always very careful about what I am allowed to do and what I am not.”  
  
“Nobody said you weren’t allowed,” Fili said, now feeling a little exasperated. “They were only surprised to find books, that is all. Actually I supposed they were surprised to find you had a cupboard at all, or a bed, or a room. I think if you lived with Albed’s family they would keep you out in the barn with the chickens.”  
  
Kili frowned. “I have slept in barns,” he said. “Many times, when traveling with Thorin. But I would not like to live there all the time.”  
  
“Well then it is quite fortunate for you that you live with us, and not Albed.”  
  
Kili still looked a bit worried, but then again he often did, so Fili was not unduly concerned. “I am off to talk with Thorin,” he said, rising from the table. “I met some dwarves at the festival who had come of late from the Iron Hills, and they have news of Dáin and his folk that I wish to pass on.”  
  
Kili nodded, and turned back to his potatoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is later than I intended, but (a) some comments from Chapter 1 made me second-guess myself about whether something should or shouldn't happen in this chapter, (b) we had a high school graduation party and the accompanying high school graduation, (c) job stuff, and (d) upcoming vacation to plan, woot! So life happens and interferes with fanfiction, sadly.
> 
> But here it is, with gratitude as always to my stalwart beta, SapphireMusings.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ... have no excuse for how long it's taken for me to post this final chapter, except that soon after posting chapter 2, in short order my son graduated high school, then my husband and I went on a long vacation to Italy (SO BEAUTIFUL), then I came back to the misery of post-lengthy-vacation-return-to-work which was exacerbated by me taking on a new role within my organization, so ... err, yeah, it's been over a month, and I am very sorry. ::abashed::
> 
> At any rate, here it is, and perhaps now that it's done I can get myself back to an actual sequel, which is being stubborn. :: fingers crossed ::

* * *

_Nothing is capable of being well set to music that is not nonsense. - Joseph Addison  
_

* * *

 

Thorin, when Fili found him, was surrounded by papers and scrolls, looking quite beleaguered.

“If this is to be my lot when I am king,” Fili sighed, “then I shall die of boredom before I have held the throne for a year. Who can bear to read so many papers?”

Thorin scowled at him. “You are lucky I do not make you read them for me now. It is only because I know you would be paying so little attention that I would need to read them myself anyway.”

“You are very wise, Uncle,” Fili said with a respectful bow. “I have only come to tell you news from the Iron Hills.”

Thorin perked up as he always did when news came from Dáin, and listened attentively to what Fili had to say — which was not, in the end, all that much nor all that interesting, but was still more than they had heard in quite some months.

“Well,” Thorin said, when Fili had finished reporting all the news and even the gossip, “it seems Dáin’s kingdom flourishes. He must have a dozen nieces by now.”

“I cannot keep track,” Fili admitted. “Nor do I know how he arranges it, when dwarf maidens are so few, at least in the Blue Mountains; it seems anyone who wants a wife shall have to travel to the Iron Hills to get one.”

“Hmm,” Thorin said neutrally. “They do seem to get more than their fair share. Though I think you could find yourself a wife here if you wanted one. Bergin’s sister seems to like you well enough, and she is fine looking lass.”

“Kethi?” Fili was taken aback and a little horrified. “She is — I have known her since she was in nappies.”

“You have known everyone in Ered Luin since they were in nappies, or else they are older than you and it is the other way around. If familiarity were to stop a match from being made, then surely no one in Ered Luin would ever wed.”

“Yes, but _Kethi_ ,” Fili said. “She is fetching enough, I suppose, and quick witted too, but ... in any event, I do not think I shall marry, so it does not matter how fetching she is.”

Thorin grunted tolerantly. “I think you are far too young to know one way or the other, nephew.”

“Perhaps,” Fili said, though he did not see his opinion on this particular matter changing with time.

Thorin reached over and lit his pipe from the candle on the desk, then leaned back in his chair, puffing a lazy, sloppy smoke ring into the air. “Was there really no good competition for you at the festival?” he asked. “I thought young Ulrig would be there, and he is half a head taller than you and very strong.”

“Oh,” Fili said, “he would have been a fine opponent, but he fell whilst trying to catch a greased pig and broke his ankle. It was funny until we realized he was not just pretending to weep about it. He shall be off that leg for weeks. And Henfur was away on a trip to Bree with his uncle, and Hiljar has recently become apprenticed to a smith and could not come.” He shrugged. “It did not turn out so poorly. I sparred a few times before I came home, and then the weather was so fine this morning, I spent much of it in the yard practicing, though I could not convince Kili to watch me for even a little while. He has grown much more stubborn with age.”

“Well, he is not permitted to wield a sword, and he has little interest in things that are of no practical value to him,” Thorin said. “And how often is it that you watch him practice with the bow?”

“Not very often of late,” Fili said, which was true but also misleading, for he had never spent very much time watching Kili practice, as it seemed to mostly involve a lot of standing around squinting at a target and fiddling with the fletching on arrows. Fili did not imagine this was very interesting to do, much less to watch.

“You have not spent much time watching him do anything of late, I think,” Thorin said keenly. “Even when you are home, which is not so often, you do not spend much time with him.”

“I have not been home, as you say,” Fili said in self-defense. “But when I am, I speak with him all the time.”

“Hmm,” Thorin said. “To tell him to fetch your meals. I suppose that counts.”

“I speak with him far more than you do!” Fili said, stung. “And it is not my fault if he is too busy for idle chatter. You keep him at chores from morning until night, with hardly a moment to breathe. And if I do speak with him, he has nothing of interest to say except for stories of how he cut himself and needed stitches. Nor does he seem particularly eager to hear what I have been doing, even though it is much more interesting than anything he attends to!”

“Well, I do not believe that is entirely true,” Thorin said. “If he tells you nothing of interest, it is because you are not asking the right questions. But you are right that he is not especially interested in stories about swordplay. You only must find something to tell him that he will want to hear about. Tell him about the dwarves you meet and what sort of work they do, or about the new foods you have tried, or the stories you have heard from travelers. All those things interest him tremendously. He is very eager to learn of the world.”

“He knows far more of the world than I do,” Fili pointed out petulantly. “He has gone everywhere with you, where I have hardly ever been away from the Blue Mountains.”

“That is true,” Thorin admitted, without a single visible twinge of remorse. “He knows far more of the world outside the mountains than you. But those things he knows are not dwarfish, and that is what he craves most. I suppose it has not done him a service to keep him so thoroughly to the house.”

“You could hardly have let him roam around on his own! He must be minded at all times he is not at home.”

“I am well aware,” said Thorin, a little dryly. “It has proved an inconvenience more than once. But still perhaps I should have brought him to town more. Maybe then the folk there would not find him so extraordinary and stare so when they do catch a glimpse.”

“It is only some of them,” Fili said in appeasement, though in truth most of the dwarves in town would stare, as most had never seen Kili up close even once. “But it must be quite as bad when you travel. Surely he is even more of a curiosity then.”

“Only for being a dwarf with no beard,” Thorin said. “But then they just assume he is younger than he is, which is no hardship, for it gives me call to keep him by my side at all times.” He grimaced. “It is only dwarves who treat him poorly. When we deal with men, they care not about his crime nor do they know enough of our customs to believe any ill luck attends him, and so they pay no more or less attention to him than they pay to any other dwarf. Except perhaps their lasses, who find him uncommonly fair and ogle him quite boldly. I have to be careful, lest they steal him away for a husband.”

Fili could not help but let out a startled bark of laughter. “Kili? Now you are teasing me.”

“Not so much as you might think,” Thorin said, grinning slightly. “Oh, not their maidens, even the shortest of whom are a goodly bit bigger than the tallest dwarf, but to their lasses, he makes a merry prize for their games and tea parties. He is very patient with them, in truth, far more patient than I think you would be in his place.”`

“He has never said a word!” Fili said, a bit put out, and affronted too at the suggestion that he would not be so good a sport as Kili.

Thorin chuckled. “I think he has more sense than to gift you with such fertile fodder for torment. And I would prefer if you did not let on I told you. I think he does not entirely mind having them fawn over him so, but surely having you tease him about it would strip whatever enjoyment he takes out of it. I would let him have his few pleasures when he can.” And then he sobered again. “Tell me, nephew,” he said then, his gaze was very suddenly keen. “Did you set him to repair the tub today, to keep him out of sight of your friends?”

“I-” Fili said, coloring. “I might have suggested he attend to chores in the back room, and that the tub would take some time.”

“Hmm.” Thorin’s eyes glinted in the dim candlelight, and Fili felt as though he were a young boy being called to task for some misdeed, though he did not know why he should feel so.

“It is nothing you yourself have not done,” Fili said. “I have seen you devise all sorts of tasks for him to keep him out of the way when you must have other dwarves to the house.  Even Dwalin.”

Thorin did not try to deny it, but pressed on. “And what did he say when you told him he was to spend the afternoon in the back room fixing the tub?”

Fili chewed his lips, trying to remember. “Well, I would not say he was entirely enthusiastic about the idea, but then again he loathes the tub generally so I did not think much of it. Why?”

Thorin shrugged with one shoulder. “It does not matter now, but he was to have the afternoon to himself. You and I were both to be away all day, and if he finished all his chores yesterday, he could have spent this afternoon practicing with the new bow. He shall not now have another opportunity for some weeks.”

Fili was thoroughly put out by this news, both for the reminder that Kili had a new weapon, and to find out that he himself had somehow trespassed. “He did not say a word about it when I told him! I did not know he was to have the afternoon free.” Although, upon reflection, Fili remembered that Kili had seemed strangely reluctant to take on the task of patching the tub, though Fili had supposed it was more to do with the tar than that he had other plans for the day. Fili had not bothered pressing for details, which would have been more bothersome except for the certain knowledge that Kili would not have admitted the truth anyway.

“You cannot imagine he would protest anything you ask him to do,” Thorin said, “within reason.”

It did not take too much thinking. There was little Fili could ask that Kili would protest, and even if he did protest, that he would not ultimately do, whether he liked it or not. “Well, still,” Fili said, quite grumpy now, “he ought to have said something. I do not — that is to say, I do not actually seek to make his life miserable.”

“I don’t think he believes that at all,” Thorin said. “Perhaps when you were younger, but that is always the case between —” And then he paused, and frowned, finishing reluctantly. “Between two dwarflings so close in age, in the same house.”

This was treading far too close to topics that could not ever be discussed, even in private. “Well,” Fili said, feeling quite uncomfortable, “I just hope he is aware of it, that is all. If I were trying, I could make his life utterly wretched. I should be credited more than I am for my forbearance. But still, it seems unavoidable that I should make him miserable sometimes entirely by accident.”

“I do not think he blames you,” Thorin said, “if that helps soothe your conscience.”

“Not especially,” Fili said. “He never blames anyone for misfortune but himself.” He sighed, and rubbed at his eyes. “I am for bed soon, I think,” he said. “It was a long few days at the festival, and I did not sleep well.”

“Then off to bed with you,” Thorin answered. “I have a merry list of things for you to do tomorrow, in case you thought you were to escape entirely unscathed from my tyranny. In fact —” He stood then, and pulled several heavy books from the shelf above his desk. “— here. You might start reading these. I have received several letters regarding farming squabbles, and I could use a second opinion before I issue my rulings.”

Fili stared at him, horrified. “ _My_ opinion? But I have never — surely Balin’s opinion is more valuable in such matters?”

“Balin will not return for the better part of a fortnight,” Thorin said, “and I do not think these matters can wait. Come, nephew, the time will come when you shall be the one who must issue these rulings. Best to practice now, whilst I am still here to overrule you when you make a misguided decision. Here.” He thrust a sheaf of papers at Fili. “Read these, and then find some historical precedents on which to base your decision. Oh, do not scowl so! If I were Balin, I should have you write a full report with annotations and citations. All I want from you is your reasoned opinion as to our best course of action.”

“If you want to ensure that I shall sleep well,” Fili grumbled, “then you have done it, for the moment I start to read these, I think I shall succumb to slumber.”

“Then you shall be well rested on the morrow,” Thorin said cheerfully. “Off you go, then. Don’t forget the books!”

Scowling, Fili went back to his room, where he placed the books with some despair on his own small desk. The weight of the books was so great, he worried for a moment the desk would break, but it held, if only just. Dwarf furniture was sturdy stuff, but Fili's desk had suffered greatly from the wrestling of two young and excitable dwarflings, and furthermore Fili rarely put anything upon it heavier than his dirty clothing or perhaps a plate when he was sneaking food in his room, so he could not be certain how much a of a load it would withstand.

The desk creaked alarmingly but held, and Fili turned his attention to the papers Thorin had thrust at him. Honestly, just the sight of them set him to yawning; he did not see how he could possibly bring himself to read through all of them, and then through dusty old books as well.

Still, there was nothing for it. No matter how much Thorin had grinned when giving Fili the assignment, he would hold Fili accountable for it, and it was true too that Fili knew he must at least occasionally participate in such decision-making as Thorin did every day. But that did not mean he would particularly enjoy it. Yawning again, Fili lit his lamp and turned over the first paper, which seemed to concern a dispute regarding the ownership of a pair of ponies who had wandered from one dwarf’s pasture to another. Gritting his teeth, he held the paper closer to the lamp and began to read.

* * *

Fili was awakened from a dream in which he was running through a field of papers, followed by Thorin who was riding on a pony, throwing books at him, while Bergin and Albed stood to the side waving and yelling urgently at him, though in some language Fili could not understand. A book hit him hard upon the shoulder and he yelped. “I shall not burn them!” he said nonsensically, then blinked as someone huffed a quiet laugh off to his side.

Fili realized he had fallen asleep at his desk, Thorin’s papers a scratchy pillow beneath his head, arms splayed across several open books. He raised his head, stretching his neck carefully, and turned to find Kili regarding him with some amusement.

“What time is it?” Fili asked. He felt groggy and thick, and there was a paper stuck with drool to his cheek, which he pulled away with little care for its contents.

“It is past midnight,” Kili said. “I would not have woken you, but I did not think you would wish to spend the whole night hunched over your desk like that.” He looked thoroughly disheveled, his hair hanging in wet lanky strings down to his shoulders, his face scrubbed raw and red, and far more alert than Fili thought was justified for the late hour. “What were you doing?”

Fili looked with some distaste at the heap of papers and books that covered his desk. “Thorin has tasked me with giving him advice on some conflicts he has been asked to rule upon. It is enormously tedious. Why are you still up?”

Kili frowned down at his clothes before answering. “I was all over tar, and so was the back room. It took some time to clean, but if I had let it sit overnight, it would have been even worse in the morning.”

Fili imagined that was true, though he had little personal experience with tar. “But the tub is repaired?”

“The tub is repaired,” Kili agreed, “and the only loss is my shirt and a few strands of hair. I think my trousers are still good enough to wear…” His voice made it a question.

Fili saw then faint spots of black scattered here and there on the rough fabric, but none so obvious that one would note them if not looking.

“I think they are fine,” Fili said. “Besides, no one cares about the state of your trousers.”

Kili frowned. “I care,” he said. “And Thorin, inasmuch as it reflects poorly on him if I am not suitably dressed.”

“I am sure those trousers are suitable for anywhere you are likely to go,” Fili said. “However, you look like you have been at your face with a bristle brush.”

“I should have tried that. It might have worked better. I think I used up half our supply of soap. I have never been so happy to be clean shaven.”

Fili hummed noncommittally. “How did you get so covered with tar anyway? You are always so careful when you work,” Fili said. “And is there any food?”

“The floor was wet and I slipped,” Kili said with a grimace. “I must have made quite a thump when I landed. I am surprised you did not wake at the noise. If you are hungry, I can make you some bread and buckleberry jam, but you should not eat too much before bed.”

“You don’t need to fuss so. I’m no dwarfling,” Fili said, irritated.

“You rather look like one. Your hair is sticking up all over and you have ink on your cheek.” Kili sounded amused, and Fili scowled at his back as he followed him to the kitchen. “Was it really so very boring, then, reading the disputes? I should have thought it would be interesting.”

“I am sure they are very interesting to the dwarves involved,” Fili said, “but I looked at five and they were all the same, really. This one saying the other one took something of his: a cow or a pig or a plot of land. I don’t know how Thorin stands it.”

“Well, someone must do it,” Kili said sensibly, “or else the dwarves should be going at each other with swords all day like the goblins, and nothing would ever get done.”

“Oh, and I suppose you know of goblins and how they spend their days. More jam than that, I think.”

Obediently, Kili put more jam on the bread before sliding the plate to Fili. “I know nothing of goblins but the tales I’ve heard whilst we traveled, and most of those told by drunken louts in taverns. But if there is any similarity to the stories, it is that the goblins fight all the time, with men and elves and dwarves, and amongst themselves if there is no more suitable opponent. You are getting jam in your beard. I don’t know why you’re eating now. You had plenty for dinner.”

“I’m hungry,” Fili said, “and I don’t see why it’s any business of yours how much I eat. Have you a clean cloth?”

“It’s my business,” Kili said, “for I shall be the one who has to let out your trousers if you grow too fat. Here.”  He handed over a damp cloth for Fili to clean his face. “Are you staying home for a while? We shall have to stock up on more food. Thorin has hardly been eating at home of late.”

Fili was curious. “Has he not? What has he been doing?”

Kili shrugged. “He does not tell me where he goes, only if he will be home for supper, and that is not more than one or two nights a week. Sometimes he does not even come home to sleep. He has a bed in the forge, I think, and I suppose he stays there. You would know, if you were not always off at one festival or another, or spending the night with your friends in town.”

Fili did not think he was imagining the hint of reproach in Kili’s voice, though with Kili it was sometimes hard to tell.

“It is not my fault there are so many competitions,” he said, “nor that I have come to have very many friends who are eager to spend their time in my company. I am the future king, you know.”

“No, are you? To think I had not realized.” Kili finished tending to the potatoes on the hearth, and eyed Fili’s plate. “Are you done with that, your majesty? I’ll rinse it.”

Fili slid the plate across the table. “If Albed could hear you now, he would not know what to think. He thinks you are a meek little kitten, always skulking in corners.”

Kili flushed. “I apologize. I am too impertinent.”

“Pfft. A bit of impertinence here and there will do you good. One day you will be out in the world, you know, and you must show you have a backbone or you shall be trodden into the ground. I will tell you if you have overstepped your bounds.” Fili licked his fingers clean, then regarded Kili thoughtfully. “It must be very lonely for you here, if I am gone and Thorin too.”

Kili stared at him blankly for a moment, then he said slowly, “It is certainly quiet.”

“Hmm. Better for you, perhaps, when you were younger and could not be left alone in the house. What do you do with yourself, when we are not here?”

“The chores are still here,” Kili said, “whether you are home or not. And as I am the only one doing them, I do not have much time to think about how quiet it is. And Thorin is never entirely gone for more than a day. I do not think he is permitted to leave me for longer.” He shrugged. “At least, he never has. I suppose he wants to make sure I have not burnt the house down.”

“That does not seem to me to be something you are likely to do,” Fili said. “You have been tending to the fire for as long as I can remember, with never so much as a stray ember on the hearth.” He yawned then, tremendously. “I am off to bed, I think. I have a long day reading disputes tomorrow.”

“If there are any of interest, I should like to hear about them,” Kili said. He followed Fili out of the kitchen and back down the hall. “Thorin will sometimes discuss the disputes with me, when we are riding. He will make me work out for myself what the proper answer is. I do not have the books to look at, of course, but it is still interesting.”

Fili grunted. “I should let you have at them, then, if you think they are so interesting. I can do all your chores instead. It cannot be worse or more boring to repair a wheel on the wagon than to sift through all these books.”

Kili was silent, and Fili feared for a moment that Kili actually believed he was serious, but Kili finally said, “I do not mind repairing wagon wheels, or mending fences and bathtubs. I know you think those things are tedious, but it is good sometimes to do things with your hands beyond wielding a weapon.”

“I do things with my hands,” Fili said, vaguely offended. “Thorin makes me work at the forge at least once a week when I am home.”

“Oh, I did not mean — you are to be king,” Kili said. “It is more important that you learn to do all you must to rule, rather than my chores. I only meant that I do not mind all the things I must do. I know you think they are dull, and I suppose they might be to you, but it is interesting to me to see how things work, and how they can be mended when they are broken. It is good to be useful.”

Fili sat down on his bed and regarded Kili thoughtfully where he stood hovering in the doorway. “You have ever been useful. You are probably the most useful dwarf of any of us. Even Thorin, with all his kingly duties. If he stopped hearing disputes among dwarves they would just have to settle them on their own, and our towns would probably not be much the worse off for it.”

“I think there would be more fighting,” Kili said doubtfully.  
  
“Oh, assuredly,” Fili said, waving his arm carelessly, “but what are a few more squabbles here and there? People come to him for every little thing and he is too willing to listen to them. I think it is because he has no throne, and so no other way to prove he is king.”

Kili frowned at this. “I do not think that is why he does it.”

“Mayhap,” Fili said. “Perhaps it is just because he has always done it, and people expect it from him. Much of what he does is only because it is expected of him, you know.”

“He takes his responsibilities very seriously,” Kili agreed.

Fili huffed a little laugh. “I am sure he despairs of me ever doing the same.”

Kili gave him an almost insolent look. “You must admit that have given him good reason to despair.”

“Pfft. You are just as bad as he is. What reason have I to be so serious? I shall not be king for a very long time, and I do not imagine Thorin was any less irresponsible when he was young. Off with you, then. You have a busy day tomorrow, and I shall have to finish all these cases and report back to Thorin. Oh, but wait, tell me before you go, what do you think ... if a pig wanders from one farmer’s land to another and births a litter of piglets whilst on the second farmer’s property, which dwarf has claim to the piglets?”

Kili thought for a moment. “I suppose they might both have a claim.”

Fili threw up his arms. “Well, obviously that is the answer, else the matter would not have been brought to Thorin, but I would have thought it was clear the piglets are the property of the first farmer. Perhaps the second is entitled to compensation if he expended any supplies whilst the sow was on his property, but not more than that.”

“But how is it that the sow came to be on the second farmer’s land?” Kili asked.

“He did not steal it, if that is what you mean,” said Fili. “Certainly if he had, he would have no claim to the litter, but that would still be an obvious answer.”

“If the first farmer did not did not properly tend to his sty, his claim might be forfeit. It is not always automatic that lost property should be returned, if the owner is at fault for a loss. There is a law about it, I am sure of it. Balin told a story once of how Dáin the First left a goblet in the halls of the elves, do you remember? And they would not return it without ransom, though it was clearly his, for he had not taken due care with his property. It was our own laws the elf king cited.”

“I do not remember that one particularly,” Fili admitted. “Balin told many tales.”

“Oh, this was wondrous, for in it he described the great halls of the Sindar, which were gilt with gold and jewels enough to make any dwarf mad with envy, but Dáin was crafty and would not even touch a single item of elven make, for he knew there were spells wrought into the metal that might take a dwarf’s will away from him, so he would work and work for the elves and never think to leave. And the elves were so angry that Dáin could not be tricked that they demanded a ransom for the goblet that was near a year’s worth of mining, even though the goblet itself was made of wood and had hardly any jewels at all. It was only sentiment that made it valuable.”

Fili stared at him. “I cannot work out how it is that you remember all of this. Balin has not told stories in the house for many a year.”

“My head is not filled with so much knowledge as yours,” Kili said. “You have many things you must know about, swords and forging and mining and runes and Khuzdul and history, and everything else you must know to be a prince. I have only to know how to tend to the house, and Thorin when we were are away, and that is really not so very difficult.”

Fili did not think it could be all so easy as that to tend to Thorin, for Thorin even at his best was not very jolly, nor did he take special care with his things. Fili imagined that traveling with Thorin was quite a lot of sullen silence and mending trousers, or worse, mending trousers whilst Thorin was droning on about the cases he must settle. But these were things he would not say to Kili, for Kili would defend Thorin staunchly, no matter the charge. So all he said instead was, “I think your head has just as much knowledge as mine. Geometry and archery and cooking and gardening — it is far more practical stuff than what I must remember.”

Kili frowned at him. “You told me geometry was very practical. I remember distinctly. You said geometry was all around, and every dwarf must know it at least a little bit. I wanted to learn fractions.”

“And so you did,” Fili said, “and geometry too, and both of them are practical; you shall see if you have not already. But come, you have been busy all day, surely you are as tired as I. It must be nearly one o’clock.”

“I have a little more to do,” Kili said, “in the back, but then I shall be finished.” He left then, and Fili took only the time to douse his lamp before putting himself to bed.

* * *

 

Fili slept late the next morning, for no more reason than he could, and woke to the sounds of the chickens squawking in the coop as Kili tended to them. The weather was warm, so Fili dressed lightly, and ate the breakfast Kili had set out for him: eggs and beans and the roasted potatoes, crispy on the outside and still steaming when he opened them. Thorin was already gone, but he had left a note reminding Fili about the cases — a rather too gleeful note, in Fili’s estimation — so Fili knew he must at least resolve a few of them before the evening.

He dithered on the way back to his room, stopping in the parlor and straightening a few pictures on the walls, needlessly. He caught a glimpse of Kili out of the window, now back in the garden and stripped to the waist, hoeing diligently. Of course he did it diligently, Fili thought with a teeny bit of spite, for Kili was diligent about everything he ever attempted; had Thorin left Kili the responsibility for arbitrating the cases, he would most assuredly not have gone to sleep the night before until they were all done, probably with references marked in his cramped, unpracticed hand.

Fili frowned then, feeling a little unsettled though not certain of the cause, but that it was something to do with Kili, and diligence, and writing, and settling cases, and tending to the eggs, and a general sense that he, Fili, ought not to be complaining about any of the work he must do, for however much it was, Kili had more. In fact, Fili reflected, more unsettled still, Kili never complained about any of the work he must do, or about anything, ever, no matter how unjust or unfair — not that Kili would believe that any treatment towards him, no matter how poor or uncivil, could be considered unfair. He would probably not even protest that Fili had stolen away his one free afternoon to mend a tub that probably would not have started leaking for weeks or months yet.

“Feh,” Fili said to himself, disgruntled. It was no fun pitying himself for his supposed burdens when it only made him feel inferior and petty. Well, he supposed the best he could do would be to do such a thorough job on his assignment that Thorin would be impressed; at least then he might realize that it was not only Kili who could work diligently when motivated.

Thus determined, he headed back to his room, opening the shutters to let the full light of day in, and set to. Against all expectations, he became rather thoroughly engrossed in the legal texts, which did not set him so rapidly to sleep now that he was well-rested. The morning passed quickly, so that he was surprised when Kili knocked on his door and told him it was time for lunch. “I think,” Fili said, stretching, “that perhaps it would not be so terrible to judge all these cases, if only I could bring all these books along with me from town to town.”

Kili raised his eyebrows and stared doubtfully at the stack of books stacked precariously on Fili’s desk. “On a pony? That does not seem very practical.”

“I did not say it was practical,” Fili said, following Kili to the kitchen, where Kili had set out a plate of salted meats and fresh bread. “But without the texts to guide me I don’t see how I should possibly be able to judge any case at all.”

“I think the cases are very much the same one to the other, or so Thorin says.” Kili was fussing about with several haunches of meat that he was salting. “There are just a few laws that he must know to judge most of the cases. And for the trickier ones, he can defer his decision until he has time to review the books. Though I think,” and here he dropped his voice down, though he knew well that Thorin was at the forge, “I think sometimes he just asks Balin to do it for him.”

“I shall have you to be my Balin for me,” Fili said. “I have no head for all these facts and citations, but seeing as how you remember everything you ever read, you shall be perfect for the job. Oh come, don’t stare at me so, there’s no reason you can’t do it, once your sentence ends. You will need the work, and who else shall hire you? No,” he said, rising to his feet, “I think it is a capital idea, and I will not hear otherwise.” Over the years, Fili had variously suggested that Kili should serve as his cook, his tailor, his chief bowman, his tax assessor, his court jester, and his scribe, each time met with the same incredulous stare. It had not stopped him making further suggestions. “Have you repaired the wheel on the wagon yet?”

Kili blinked, but adjusted to the precipitous change in topic. “I have cut the new spindles,” he said, “but I still need to whittle them precisely to size before I replace them.” He frowned. “I may have to wait for Thorin to get home to put the wheel back in place.”

“I can help you,” Fili said. “Oh really, now, there is no need to look at me like that! You make me feel quite useless. I am sure there is nothing so complicated about it that you cannot tell me what to do. And then think how pleased Thorin will be, when he comes home and the wagon is already repaired.”

“He will be happier still,” Kili said pointedly, “if you have finished with all the cases he left you.”

“I will have finished,” Fili said, “though he may not like what I have decided.”

“I think he shall be happy to know that you have decided anything at all,” Kili said, and Fili thought he was probably right, as he usually was.

“Well,” Fili said, “I shall head back to it then, but when I have finished, I shall help you with the wheel, whether you like it or not. Just imagine what Thorin should say then, if I have finished those cases and helped with the wheel besides.”

Kili opened his mouth but then shut it again quickly, and oh, Fili would have paid dearly to know what Kili might have said, if he were not so firmly in control of his tongue (in a way Fili knew he himself would never be). “I shall have to finish with the meat first,” is all Kili said, “and then tend to the laundry and the garden and whittle the spindles. So you have plenty of time to work.”

“We shall see which one of us finishes first,” Fili said, “and be careful not to make the spindles too small, or you shall have to start over.”

Kili looked deeply offended at the suggestion, but all he said was, “I shall endeavor to be especially careful,” which was of course ridiculous, because Kili was never anything but.

* * *

In the end, resolving the cases did not really take all that long, though writing down some notes so he could defend his answers to Thorin was no small task. By the time he had finished, Fili was certain he had been through each book a dozen times, and could recite certain sections by heart. Still, he was pleased with himself, and felt the day had been well spent. The sun was just starting to come back down but the air was still warm, and Kili was outside in the garden again, pulling at the weeds, in much the same position as he had been in two days earlier when Fili had come home unexpectedly.

Always working, Fili thought; Kili was always working, and much of it was drudgery, no matter how much he pretended he enjoyed it — and Fili was sure he must be pretending, for no one could truly enjoy pulling weeds by oneself day after day, any more than he could truly enjoy milking cows or fetching eggs. Those things were necessary and useful, but lonely and quiet.

A thought struck Fili then, and he hurried back to his room, pulling one of the legal texts from the desk and turning the pages until he found what he was looking for, which did not take him as long as it might have, had he not spent the night and day flipping back and forth from one text to the next, back to front and front to back. “Hmm,” he said after a moment, then stuck his finger in to hold his place and switched to a different book, finding another page after a moment’s searching. This page he read too, slowly and carefully, checking the first from time to time, going back and forth until he was satisfied.

“Well,” he said eventually, feeling well pleased, “and that answers that.” Whistling, he grabbed his fiddle and headed out the door, tuning the strings as he went.

When he reached the garden, Kili was crouched down over a small row of sprouted seeds, carefully pulling weeds around them. Eight spindles were propped up carefully against the fence. Fili was not surprised Kili had not come to fetch him for help with the wheel; Fili had made many such offers to help over the years, but rarely carried through. Kili straightened up when he saw Fili approaching, brow wrinkled. “I know you have not replaced with wagon wheels before, but surely you cannot think you will need a fiddle for the repair.”

Fili pulled a face. “No, don’t be ridiculous.”

Kili looked perplexed. “Then why have you brought your fiddle out? Do you intend to play to the chickens?”

Fili sniffed. “Perhaps I ought to. They might produce more eggs. Bofur swears that goats and cows will produce more milk if sung to a little each day.”

“You told me,” Kili accused, “that he only says that so people will not think it odd how much time he spends in the fields, when he ought instead to be working.”

“I do not see that the fact that he likes to nap in the fields means he is wrong about the goats,” Fili said. “And it is true that Bombur always has more cheese to sell than any other merchant. But no, I am not going to play to the chickens. You are going to teach me the song from Bree about the farmer and the mule, and any others you might have heard in your tranvels that you like.”

Kili’s stare at him was not exactly friendly. “I do not — I have told you, I cannot sing in company.”

“Ah,” Fili said, wagging a finger, “you told me that you were not _sure_ , because you have never specifically asked, and rightly so, if you expected to get an answer you would not like. But I have told you, I am not company.”

“In some matters,” Kili conceded, “but-”

“In this matter,” Fili said. “You are right, of course, you cannot sing in company, but you are quite free to sing at home, and there is no restriction whatsoever as to whether Thorin or I might listen when you do.”

Kili was silent, chewing at his lip.

“It is quite clear,” Fili said, sensing an advantage and pressing on. “It is — that you cannot sing in company, that is clear within the law, but it also falls under the _lavitim_ , the exceptions for the home. That is why you may make our meals and eat of them what we leave over, and why you may use the same bath as we do, and sleep inside the house instead of out.”

Kili’s lips pursed. “I am aware of the _lavitim._ There is nothing in them about singing.”

“Oh, but there is,” Fili said, “indirectly, at least, for it is not listed in the _dhazad_ as one of the 138 actions that are specifically prohibited outside the house.”

Now Kili frowned. “But it is not permitted outside the house. I am certain of it.”

“No, only singing _in company_ is prohibited,” Fili said, feeling triumphant. “And since that is mentioned quite specifically in the _dhazad_ , and there is no exception for it within the _lavitim_ , you may not do it even inside the house, but the _lavitim_ is also very clear that except for the _dhazad_ prohibited actions, which are forbidden altogether unless specifically excepted, all else is permissible at home.”

Kili opened his mouth and shut it a few times. “But you and Thorin-”

“Are not company,” Fili said. “As I have said from the beginning, except that now I can point you to the passage, if you would like to see it.”

Kili brooded silently for a moment. “I do not need to see it,” he said. “There are other things that — that is to say, there are other things I would not be permitted to do, if you counted as company, but the laws are so confusing sometimes, I cannot always see the logic to them — are you _quite_ sure singing is not forbidden?”

“Quite certain,” Fili said, feeling rather triumphant. “For the rules of the _lavitim_ are laid in the same order as the _dhazad_ , and if there were a rule, it would follow directly after the playing of a musical instrument — which you are not allowed to do, incidentally, except for a percussion instrument and then only until you come of age — but the text goes straight to the rules regarding the playing of sport, which go on for several pages.”

“A percussion instrument,” Kili repeated, looking quite taken aback.

“Oh, I think that must be because you cannot stop a dwarfling from banging on things,” Fili said. “Not unless you tie his hands down. But see,” he said, placing his fiddle under his chin and playing a few notes, “there is no reason at all you cannot teach me your silly song. How did it go, then? Please go, said the farmer, lest we be late to the market?”

“Lest we be late to the fair,” Kili said. “And I must not be late, for my sweet love is there.”

Fili made a face. “This is not about wooing a maiden to bed, is it?”

“No, his love is actually a pastry.”

Fili blinked, fingers frozen over the fiddle strings. “A pastry.”

Kili nodded, looking defensive. “I told you it was a silly song.”

“But a pastry,” Fili said. Then he grinned. “Oh, that is quite ridiculous. Bofur shall love it. Come, sing the full song! I shall play while you sing, and then when you are finished with the garden we shall put on the wagon wheel together, and Thorin will be so surprised when he comes home, he shall not know what to think.”

Kili stared at him for a moment, then said slowly, “Yes, all right.” But he paused, looking suddenly awkward.

Fili waited a heartbeat or two. “What?” he asked. “I have already told you it was permitted. You are not grown shy now, are you? With me?”

“No,” Kili said, with a bit of heat in his voice that meant he was actually quite irritated. “No. I just do not want your head to swell any larger than it is. I only meant to say that I am glad you will be home for a little while, that is all. The house _is_ quiet, when you are away.”

Fili grinned at him, feeling an unaccustomed lightness of heart. “You realize I shall be extra noisy now, and pester you unceasingly, until you are more than ready for me to leave again.”

Kili scowled at him, but Fili was sure he did not mean it. “Come,” Fili said, strumming his fiddle strings cheerfully, “sing for me about the man and his pastry.”

And Kili did.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as ever to SapphireMusings for betaing a story she had no idea was coming. This is me trying to get myself back into writing, word by torturous word. Some days are better than others, but any day with writing is better than a day without.


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